


Addicted

by mrs_meloncholy



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bad Relationship, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:56:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5080324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_meloncholy/pseuds/mrs_meloncholy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He came back, he always comes back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addicted

**Author's Note:**

> Ummmmm, idk why I'm posting this but I wrote it all in one go and after having this idea in my head for a while, I figured I might as well get it out. Minimally edited and kinda just stuck together randomly but I hope you like it
> 
> I'm always a slut for angst!!
> 
>  
> 
> p.s I suggest you listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PGmnlFNLAV0) while reading

They’d never work. They were two pieces from completely different puzzles. Where their edges met, they squeezed, warping each other in their fruitless effort to fit. They’re oil and water, mixing only when you shake vigorously enough. Their entire relationship was built on a fault line that was constantly pressing and shifting, and the earthquakes were becoming too much. They would just never _work_. There was too much take, and never enough give. They adored each other too fervently, and hated so lethally. It was toxic, it was noxious, it was _love_.

They fought. Storm outs and slammed doors, promises that it really was _over_ this time. Never did they lay a hand on each other, though that wasn’t saying much. Sometimes words were stronger than fists. They held each other’s heart, stabbed through with a dagger, not with their hands. Every fight was a twist, digging the double edged blade deeper.

They fed off the anger, thrived off each calamity, and survived through the heartbreak. It was never ending,--an ouroboros of mawkish, twisted loathing.

_“Fuck you, Mustang!”_

_“Where do you think you’re going, Fullmetal!?”_

Dishes would smash against the wall, spiteful nothings would be said, with no take backs. They meant every word, every curse, every sworn ‘ _I hate you_ ’. They knew what they had signed up for. They knew this was the reality; that they would never work. It wasn’t sandpaper and soft skin; it was flame and steel, cool indifference and passion so fierce it couldn’t be contained. They were too contradicting, completely disparate.

Then, there it would be; the highs right alongside the lows. They could laugh so breathlessly, so openly, so naturally _together_. They could smile freely, they could feel it sinking into their bones, the contentment, the bliss, the love. And it wasn’t a facade. It wasn’t just glimmers of ‘ _could be_ ’s. It was concrete, it was there, for anyone to see. It was what had started all of this. All this confliction, every spark and flare. It was wholehearted, pure and unadulterated; vulnerability and infatuation. They couldn’t be summed up as a ‘ _love/hate_ ’ relationship because it was so much _more_ than that. It was euphoria and abhorrence, ecstasy and detestment.

They would cling to each other, unable to stand a minute apart,--filled with rapture. Their relationship was whispered promises in the middle of the night, and sacred kisses that paved way for sworn confessions. Their love was whole and solid and so _natural_. It flowed smoothly, over rocks and down cliffs, and the freefalls seemed to last forever.

_“Roy, I don’t think I know how to love anyone but you.”_

_“Love, I don’t think I know how to **live** without you.”_

Sometimes, their gears would fall into a familiar rhythm. They would turn flawlessly, smoothly, and sometimes it would work. They would be happy for a month or two. They would still, they would settle, wrapped up in their own little world until a fissure spread and wrenched them apart.

_“I never asked you to stay, I never asked for your support in this!”_

_“What was I supposed to do, Roy, leave? I stayed because I’m fucking in love with you!”_

No, they wouldn’t work. They would never work. But that was never the question. The question was, has always been; _is it worth it_?

“I can’t-” Ed swallowed thickly, shaking his head, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Roy didn’t look at him, “You don’t mean that, Ed, you do-”

“Yes I do.” Edward growled, glaring fiercely, “I’m _sick_ of this. I’m tired of fighting you, because no matter how much I try, I know I can’t. I never hated you, and I’m-I don’t think I can anymore. I love you, Roy… I don’t want to hate you.”

Dark eyes stared at him, Roy’s face a mask of aloof indifference and it made Ed grind his teeth, because of fucking course he doesn’t even bat an eye while Ed’s saying this, “We can figure it out, we can-”

Ed cut him off with a bitter laugh, “It’s been over a year, Roy. Every other month one of us is walking out, and the only thing that keeps me from punching you in the face is the fact that I love you more than I hate you. I-I don’t want that balance to shift. I can’t-”

“Please, Edward, we can. Giving up doesn’t suit either of us.”

Ed shook his head, leaning back against the door behind him, “It’s not giving up, it’s compromise,” He said, and dropped his eyes to the floor, “If I leave now, really _leave_ , I’ll still love you. It’s just not-It’s not worth the risk anymore.”

Roy stayed silent, and when Ed looked back up at him, a familiar emotion played on his face, masks dropped, “I love you, Ed. You don’t have to go, I don’t-I don’t know what I’ll do without you.” Roy’s hands came up to cup his face, and Ed fought the urge to lean into the affection, “Please don’t leave, we can do this. I can’t lose you, too, Ed, I can’t.” He whispered, every word spilled through a shaken breath, and the weight of it all was suffocating.

Edward shut his eyes, “I have to go.”

“No you don’t…”

“Yes I do. You can find someone else, _anyone_ else would be better than me.” Ed said, not daring to open his eyes for a second, knowing exactly what he’d see.

Roy kissed him sweetly, his hands cold and just a bit trembly on Ed’s jaw, “I’ve had heaven, why would I want to come back down?”

Gold eyes opened slowly with a sardonic smile, “It’s not heaven, Roy, it’s hell. The heat is just nice at first.”

“I’ve always been rather fond of the flames.”

Shaking his head, Ed twisted away from him, a hand on the door knob, “So’ve I.”

He came back. He always comes back,--because the train rides are lonely, and each minute away adds a tally mark to the regret. It’s an _addiction_ , Ed can recognize it well enough. There are withdrawals, and relapses, and moments when being sober almost seems like a good idea. But then again he just needs one more kiss, one more promise that it’ll be okay this time, and it’ll be in his system for another round. For a week, he’ll be high, rolling in endorphins and tripping on each hot fuck, but the crash always comes right after he does.

“You’ve got me all fucked up, Roy. What am I gonna do?” He asks, his forehead pressed to the older man’s collarbone, hands holding fistfuls of his shirt.

“Stay. Just stay.”

Ed wraps his arms around him, relishing in the quick heartbeat against his own, “I’m not capable of leaving. I can go, but I can never _leave_.”

Roy is silent for a minute, before he sighs, “What are we going to do? This-This can’t go on forever; there has to be some sort of end. I can’t anticipate it, I don’t want to, but it’s only a matter of time, right?”

“Yeah.” Ed says, shutting his eyes against the ache in his chest, though it doesn’t go away. It never does.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”


End file.
